Review #475: Sheryl Crow, Sheryl Crow
#475: Sheryl Crow, Sheryl Crow
I’m pretty sure my parents saw Sheryl Crow perform one time, because we had her Greatest Hits album playing nonstop on car rides into school for a while. So I know and love A LOT of Sheryl Crow — “Strong Enough,” “My Favorite Mistake,” “Soak Up the Sun.” Over Thanksgiving, my sister and I duetted “Picture” — she was Kid Rock, I was (obviously) Sheryl.
But I had no idea she had such a storied career! She’s been performing since the Eighties, and even was a backing vocalist for Michael Jackson during his tour for Bad. Look up pictures of the two of them — holy hell, that hair. Then in 1992, she recorded a full self-titled debut album which was never released, Crow claiming that it was “too produced.” It sounds like she had a lot of trouble being taken seriously at the start of her career.
Her real debut was Tuesday Night Music Club, which was co-written by a loose collective that — yes — met on Tuesdays. All the other musicians were male, which probably contributed to some of the acrimony between Crow and the rest of them after she blew way up. David Letterman asked her if “Leaving Las Vegas” was autobiographical, to which she said yes — despite the fact that that song was largely not written by her, and in fact was based on a book by mutual friend John O’Brien. Three weeks after the incident, O’Brien killed himself. (O’Brien’s parents did not blame Crow for the tragedy, noting that O’Brien had many problems.)
So she wrote, produced, and performed her second album almost entirely alone, playing nearly every instrument herself. Originally, Tuesday Night Music Club member Bill Bottrell was set to produce, but he backed out at the last minute. In fact, the first verse of the snarky “A Change Would Do You Good” was written about Bottrell: Bottom feeder, insincere/ Prophet lo-fi pioneer. Woof!
Crow’s Greatest Hits album is mostly sunny, country-tinged rock music. So I was caught off-guard by how dark and complex her self-titled sophomore album is. There are heavy, existential moments (“Maybe Angels,” “Ordinary Morning”) as well as bright, optimistic ones (“Everyday Is a Winding Road” — I get a little bit closer). There’s even a good amount of protest songs, some of which touch on controversial subjects. “Redemption Day” was inspired by America’s indifference to the Bosnian War, while “Hard to Make a Stand” touches on gender roles and abortion. Meanwhile, “Love Is a Good Thing” got her banned from Wal-Mart with the line Watch our children while they kill each other/ With a gun they bought at Walmart discount stores.
As ever, there are a good amount of love songs. “Home” is her softest, breathiest number, about how domestic bliss can get stale. “Superstar,” on the other hand, has her chasing a minor celebrity — while mocking them at the same time. And I felt a little called out by “The Book,” where she basically tells a writer off for writing about her. (But then again, Sheryl, aren’t you doing the same thing? Calling him The worst kind of thief is a little dramatic.)
Some of my favorites off this one were her empathetic portraits of women engaging in bad behavior. “Sweet Rosalyn” is about a prostitute who gets chastised by a priest, and “Oh Marie” about a divorcée who seems a little lost in her luxurious life. And she’s not afraid to turn the lens onto herself with “If It Makes You Happy,” which is about finding herself depressed after achieving success. It’s just awesome, her voice raspy and full as she wallows in her own despair. I’m not the kind of girl you’d take home, she says, and you feel every emotion for her.
Of course that’s not true — Crow went on to date a few high-profile men, including Eric Clapton, Owen Wilson, and most famously Lance Armstrong. (Crow apparently hates talking about it, ((and who can blame her?)) but she did allegedly testify to seeing evidence of Armstrong’s drug use.) Nowadays, she’s mostly out of the limelight, raising the sons she adopted on a farm in Nashville. She’s a superstar, and I might have to buy that Greatest Hits album for myself.
